Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Days of October

Sunday,
when the bells ring,
I will think of you.
Memories of the dead,
rising up
like pearls
released from their shells.
As I sit there,
in the silence of the sanctuary,
I will drift back
to the days of October,
my brown leggings
and flannel shirt,
your blue eyes,
our chance meeting,
on a milk crate.
We still touch
and kiss
and light-up like Jack-o-lanterns
at the sight of one another.
We have survived loss -
grandparents
and dogs,
and dreams.
We have seen buildings collapse
and countries at war.
We have walked upon beaches in Italy
and shared meals fit for Gods.
We have known the passion of carnal love
and settled in to the comfort of certainty.
We have danced our dull hearts new
never forgetting
the rhythm of night
or one another.